went into No 10 under false pretences. I’m not saying I was a baby substitute. But the unkempt barbarian served me up to the cameras – a pet for all seasons – and really it was yet another power move by his special adviser, the antic Siamese in the beanie. He said I was forever, but they always say stuff like that, trying to make you loyal. Point being: politicians understand zero about forever and that’s a known fact. What they know about is how to deploy creatures to serve their ludicrous need to look human. Am I upset? I’ve been around the block, my son. Boris thinks that because he read Cicero in the bath at Balliol that he understands the inner workings of ambition, but the man has never taken in the great sceptic’s most important lesson, that a leader must command the support and confidence of the people as well as the national dog. "You gave them the feeling their response to the virus was all about class," said Larry the cat Look, we fell out. Now I’m at risk of being reshuffled. But let me tell you something: I have resources they couldn’t even imagine. I’m a rescue dog. And I wouldn’t be the Jack Russell cross that I am today if I couldn’t yap about it, that’s the deal.Dom-Dom looks like Harold Wilson’s cat, Nemo, with his crazy socks. He dumped Sajid Javid and then tried to get to me to sign some sort of non-disclosure bollocks. What? He thinks because I’ve got a misaligned jaw I can’t speak? I know my rights. Guardian Today: the headlines, the analysis, the debate - sent direct to you Read more They come from the same place as his. Dominic seeks “dominion over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth”. Yeah, good luck with that. The good creatures of this country know exactly what you’re doing, dude – making the dogs hate the cats and the cats hate the dogs. I used to say to my mate, Bailey, Javid’s totally sussed cavapoo: “These guys are savage, man.” I’m telling you. It’s like Wolf Hall in here. But there’s wisdom among the pets, like spores of history in No 10 – a trail of wisdom going all the way back to Chong, Lloyd George’s excellent chow-chow. Some animals are breeders and some are readers, and Chong knew everything. They say he brought the wisdom of the Tang dynasty into No 10. Anyhow, it was during a conversation I was having with Larry, the Chief Mouser – the best in Whitehall – and I brought up Chong and his excellent theories about the prevention of pandemics. Next minute, I’m hauled in. It’s off the knee and into the basket for a bit of questioning, Carrie looking sick. ‘Dom-Dom looks like Harold Wilson’s cat, Nemo.’ The Wilsons and Nemo the Siamese in 1965. Facebook Twitter Pinterest ‘Dom-Dom looks like Harold Wilson’s cat, Nemo.’ The Wilsons and Nemo the Siamese in 1965. Photograph: Keystone-France/Gamma-Keystone via Getty Images Advertisement “You’re getting all pusillanimous and panicky,” said the PM. I just looked at him. Cool it with the words, I thought. There’s no point answering Boris because he’s always ready with some gelatinous self-entertainment. (The only Downing Street dog who ever spoke directly back to his master was, notoriously, Lola, George Osbourne’s bichon frise, a distant relative of Marilyn Monroe’s philosopher-companion, Mafia Honey. Lola couldn’t stand it a second longer and gave it to him straight about austerity.) “Dom-Dom says we ought to shake Dilyn out at the next juncture,” the PM said. “Just not cut out for the machinations, the old momentous mayhem of metamorphosis. We can’t have a mutt spreading unhelpful truths about this bloody virus all over the place.” The movement from snuggles to reshuffles is really fast in this joint and they don’t mess about or pause over basic rights. Attlee’s Airedale terrier, Ting, laid down a law that has rung through the years for all of us in this street: never drop deposits of truth on the boss’s carpet or, before you know it, you’ll be living on cornflakes with a clerical assistant in Putney. I’ll confess I was sullen on Wednesday. I went down the corridor to the Cabinet Room, where Larry the cat was rubbing his back against the fireplace. Larry the cat will not be evicted from No 10, Cabinet Office confirms Read more “The evolution of worry is making predictable strides,” Larry said. “You gave them the feeling that their response to the virus was all about class.” “Well it is,” I replied. “You know the score. The virus will quickly spread among people who can’t afford to make a staycation of the disaster. The boss can chuck as much cash in the air as he likes: it won’t touch people with no employment rights. The latest blight will join the traditional ones, with the better-off at home examining their ‘lifestyle choices’.” “That’s activist talk. You shouldn’t have gone political. You shouldn’t have mentioned Chong.” Larry advised. “Anyway, you’re fine. Carrie says the plan to ditch you is all bosh.” “Yeah, whatever. That’s what they said to Lincoln’s dog Fido befire it got knifed. True story! There were two assassinations in that family, Larry! People forget about the First Pooch!”Larry shrugged and padded off to the kitchen for scraps. Meanwhile, I could hear the boss’s footsteps on the stairs, the babble of plans, the squirt of sanitiser. As he bent to lift me, I thought of Dorothy Parker’s beloved dachshund, Robinson, and how everybody at the Algonquin felt he had to be punished for the unceasing look of truth and justice on his little face. • Andrew O’Hagan is a writer, and contributing editor to the London Review of Books and Granta magazine